


Flashing Lights

by cosmicrhetoric



Series: New York, New York [2]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Drug Use, EXTREME Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, New York AU, Tons of Violence, not always super dark actually hah, super dark though, will update characters as chapters go on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicrhetoric/pseuds/cosmicrhetoric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>collection of nonconsecutive modern new york au drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nemesis and Orion

**Author's Note:**

> @ people waiting for pltlwm: haha sorry  
> because my aedion/lysandra new york au kinda expanded in my brain this is just a place for me to shove all of my really dark plot ideas that don't fit/can't make it into hogwarts au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaol does something he really doesn't want to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ people waiting for pltlwm: haha sorry  
> because my aedion/lysandra new york au kinda expanded in my brain this is just a place for me to shove all of my really dark plot ideas that don't fit/can't make it into hogwarts au

**Nemesis and Orion**

Chaol walked in, and it was only sheer pride that kept him from walking right back out. The club was underground, literally and not, and was lit with they kind of harsh purples and blacklights that reminded him of the coke parties he had to pull Dorian out of during their stint at Coachella.

(“Never again. You absolute idiot.” he has said, furious at his best friend. Dorian had just laughed.

“Come on, Chaol, if I only get a weekend I may was well _watch_ people shoot up.”)

There were bodies everywhere, thrumming with the electronic music and the heavy pulse of the lights. A women blew a kiss at Chaol as he kept walking, and but he knew better than to acknowledge her.

The Vaults. Hard music, harder drugs, and a 90% chance of getting a knife slipped between your ribs. It wasn't exactly his favorite place. He wouldn't even be here if it wasn't a last option for him. Chaol pushed forward, noting the small private booths where several silver needles flashed, passed the even more private booths with hanging curtains around them. Whether they were for sex or something more sinister, he hoped he never found out. The main attraction, however, was in the center of the room. A large boxing ring, slightly raised, ropes made of a white so bright they glowed in the blacklight, took up most of the Vault's floor space. Chaol found himself pushed and shoved by the veritable mob that crowded around it. He wasn't too bothered-Chaol was a fairly large guy, not the type to be physically pushed around, but the members of the Vaults were so manic that he kept his distance. And then he saw her.

She was perched on a small stool in one corner of the ring, in white shorts and a white sports bra, head bowed. His first realization was that she had dyed her hair. It wasn't soft gold anymore, she had bleached it to look almost white. Her roots were growing in, but the look suited the glowing girl up on the ring.

It didn't suit the girl Chaol used to know. But then again, those girls were two very different people.

Her hair was loose and a little shorter than he remembered. It was a little straggly at the ends, and Chaol was reminded of the girl who used to have at least eight hair masks per night. And then she looked up, and he gasped, because her eyes were black and dull and her smile had mirth, but no humor.

What happened to his Celaena?

She stood up, swaggering already, head cocked and that infuriating smile directed at her opponent-a great bull of a man in black at the other corner. The crowd loved her though, screaming as she took bows, twirling and spinning and looking already triumphant. Celaena took a few steps to the edge of the ring, motioning to a laughing boy in the crowd. He came closer and held up a joint. Celaena leaned forward, inhaling deep.

Chaol's heart was breaking.

Celaena, cheeks puffed, grinned at her opponent and blew the white smoke at him. She took a step back, letting the applause and the laughter of the crowd echo around her. There was a sudden shift in the mood, and it became clear that the crowd wanted blood. The bull charged at her, enraged. The girl's smile dropped, slightly, as she zeroed in on him. Her tapped hands snapped up into a general boxer's stance, but she had barely begun to bounce when she saw an opening and took it. The large man prepped for a cross, but his moves were too telegraphed. Quickly, with a calculated gleam in her eye, Celaena sidestepped him and hooked her foot around his ankle, yanking outwards.

The bull went down. He got up fast, though, and Celaena stalked the ring, motioning to the crowd and hyping them up. It became very clear to Chaol that this fight was very much in her pocket. The bull swung again, and Celaena blocked it on her forearms. She retaliated with sharp, fast punches, simple jab cross combinations that combined with her speed and power, became deadly. She landed most of them, but sinking punches into the bull's tighten abdomen wasn't going to floor him or get her anywhere. She drove her elbow into his solar plexus, and that did something. He doubled over, and Celaena drove her knee up into his nose.

The crowd cheered. She didn't play fair, thought Chaol. She fought like a hurricane. Brutal and bloody and with zero regard for her opponent. It was ugly. As he watched, Celaena elbowed him in his already broken nose twice in quick succession before kicking out his knees. Another uppercut under the chin, another spin kick to the back of the head. She was fighting for her life, but the bull was so outmatched by her Chaol wondered why she was taking it so far. If this was just conditioning, if she had simply been fighting with everything for so long she couldn't turn it off....then why was she milking it so much?

The bull was on his knees. Celaena jumped lightly onto the ropes, holding her balance with the practiced air of a gymnast. She let out a war cry, throwing her fist in the air. The crowd followed suit, and she _drank it up_. Now laughing, Celaena pumped her fist once more. Her opponent tried to struggle to his feet, and noticing this, Celaena jumped off the ropes. Her eyes were cold and dull again, filled with pure practicality. She strode over to him and without missing a beat in the still pulsing music, kicked him hard in the stomach. The bull let out a gasp and collapsed once more. Celaena spun back to face the crowd, elated.

People around Chaol were losing their minds with adoration for her cruelty. He took one step back, then another, until he was all the way by the private booths. As far from the ring as he could get.

This was not how he remembered her.

He found her later, after the congratulatory crowd around the fighter had subsided. She was with that boy who offered her the joint, who was then carefully measuring lines of cocaine. Celaena looked unconcerned by this, and she was simply unwrapping her hands. He cleared his throat, and she looked up. Chaol was struck at once by how blue her eyes were, how that at least hadn't changed. She met his gaze, and though her expression didn't change, he knew her well enough to see the waves of shock that were riding through her gaze.

Celaena snorted. “Well, well. If it isn't one of New York's finest.”

Chaol cleared his throat. “Cel-”

“Leave.” she waved a hand dismissively and reached for a cigarette. “This ain't a place for one of our boys in blue. If anyone here knew who you were, you'd have a problem.”

“Still looking out for me, Laena?”

She laughed at that, lighting the cig and taking a long drag. “You wish, Westfall. But murders are kinda hard to cover up, and I planned to go home early tonight.”

Chaol forced himself not to pointedly look at his watch. It was _at least_ two in the morning. “I need to talk to you.”

“I can't talk to you.”

“It's important.”

“Oi, Ress,” said Celaena, speaking to the boy next to her. She swatted at his ready straw. “No coke on the job, aight? Distribute. That's it.” She dug her hand through his bag and slammed out a needle and a small paper packet. “Only the harmless stuff tonight.”

“What is that?” asked Chaol, despite himself.

“Heroine.”

He choked. “ _Harmless?_ ”

Celaena cast a look at him, and Chaol was suddenly sure she had staged that little intervention for his benefit. To scare him off. “There's no room for you here, Officer Westfall.”

“I'm still a fucking trainee. Don't 'Officer Westfall' me.” snapped Chaol. “I need to talk to you. Outside.”

“You hard of hearing, Officer Westfall?”

“Fuck you.”

The look she sent him was pure poison. “You did, remember?”

He recoiled. “Jesus, Cel.”

She ran a hand through her platinum hair. “Literally and figuratively, if you remember. You fucked me, and then you fucked me over.”

“Outside, Celaena.” he growled, trying hard not to see red.

And she actually listened this time, standing up and following him out of the club, expression impassive. It was snowing outside, and she dropped her cigarette into the growing patch of snow by a dumpster. Chaol faced her then, this small girl in shorts and a sports bra, hands half tapped. He blinked, because she was still _Celaena_ , still _his girl_ , even though he had, in her words, fucked her over the last time they had spoken.

“Here.” he said, shrugging off his jacket and passing it to her. She was doing her best not to shiver, but most of her skin was showing, and it was cold. Celaena took it without comment, shrugging it on.

“What?” she asked.

“I need a favor.”

She laughed loudly. “You're a piece of work.”

“And you're...” he gestured to the club entrance. “What the hell is this, Cel?”

“I'm floored.” drawled Celaena. “Does Chaol Westfall not approve of my actions?”

“With the drugs, and the fighting-”

'There was always fighting.” said Celaena. “And I don't take anything hard, _Officer_.”

“What a fucking relief.” he said sarcastically. “Is he making you do all this?”

Her eyes had gone black and dull again. “Don't talk to me about him.”

“I kinda have to.”

“You have no input in my business.”

“I care about you.” he said. “I do.”

“No.” said Celaena softly. “You cared about your charity case. The little broken bird you took in and groomed for flight, you cared about me when I was a little girl, when I fucking _needed_ you. I don't need you anymore, especially knowing what I know now about you.”

“Celaena.”

“ _Especially_.” she continued, her voice getting louder. “Knowing that as soon as I show you a shred of who I really am, of _this_ , of the goddamn glass under my skin, you run for the hills.”

“I did not abandon you.” he struggled to get a word in. “I did not. You always had a home with me.”

“You got my best friend killed.” said Celaena, so matter of factly Chaol shrunk back. “You got her killed and then when I gave that fucker what he deserved, the _death he deserved_ for carving open the most beautiful girl I had ever met, you tried to turn me in.”

“I was scared.” said Chaol. “And you had just _killed_ someone, Celaena!”

She scoffed. “You've killed, Chaol, stop acting so damn moral.”

“I didn't....I didn't peel their skin off or whatever the hell you did to Grave!”

She spread her hands wide. “And there it is. My point. That's who I am, Chaol, and it's half my fault because I wanted to fit in your damaged goods mold so badly it really shocked you when I did something in character. And you couldn't handle it.”

“Fine.” said Chaol. “Maybe I couldn't handle it, maybe that's why I wasn't there for you, maybe that's why you ran back to Arobynn, but I need you right now. You. As you are.”

She went very still. “What?”

“I mean I need _you_.” He took a deep breath. “I need the girl that killed Grave. I need the girl that stopped Archer. The assassin.”

Celaene cocked her head. “You want retribution.”

“I want retribution.”

“And I'm practically Nemesis, is what you're saying.”

The Goddess of Revenge-the name rang true. Chaol nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

And he remembered why, remembered Dorian screaming on the floor of his father's mansion, remembered Sorcha's beautiful skin after being riddled with bullets, remembered the contract Adarlan had forced his son to sign before throwing Chaol out. “I need-”

His voice came out choked, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. Celaena's eyes went wide. She took a step forward.

“Chaol?”

He contained himself. “A mutual friend needs out help against a mutual enemy.”

“A mutual friend?” she looked confused. 'We don't have any-”

The eventual truth dawned on her, and Celaena let out a soft gasp. Her hand covered her mouth, and Chaol saw his girl in her once again. “No.”

He let out a wry smile. “I'd have to be desperate to be here, right?”

Celaena mouthed Dorian's name, but she didn't say it. Her eyes were full of concern for her only real friend.

Chaol couldn't pass up the opportunity, though, to dig the knife in a little deeper. “So I wasn't the only person who abandoned someone that night.”

She looked up sharply, anger painted on her face. “Excuse me?”

“I'm saying I'm not the one who left him.”

“You fucking asshole, are you serious?”

“Pretty damn serious, yeah.”

Celaena scoffed, shaking her head. “I cannot believe you. I cannot...”

“What I'm saying is that we don't have to get along.” said Chaol, anger thick on his voice. “We just need to get him out and we'll be done.”

“We were done a long time ago.” said Celaena, her hair gleaming under neon lights. “Deal.”

She shook her head. "For the record, you were always Orion to me."

"What does that mean?"

"The Greek mythos vein?" said Celaena, already turning back to the Vaults. "I was Diana, and you were my friend, and when you betrayed me I flung your ass to high heaven."

She flashed him a beauty queen's smiled over her shoulder. "Hey, Nemesis had to start somewhere, right? See you tomorrow,  _partner_."

 


	2. Super Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aelin and Aedion embarrass Lysandra, Rowan, literally everyone on the planet and possibly God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's zero point to this. based off the first aedion headcanon i ever made.

**Super Secret**

"It was so cute of Aelin to suggest this." said Lysandra, swinging her handbag. The soft green leather matched her emerald wool coat perfectly, and she was a vision. At her side, Rowan Whitethorn, current boyfriend(" _Lover._ " Aelin has grinned poisonously during their introduction, as Aedion gagged in the background) of her best girlfriend .

"It was inevitable." said Rowan, in as pleasant a tone as he could imagine. "I mean _we_ hardly spend time together, but whenever I'm with Aelin half of what she does is talk about you."

"Oh, hon, thanks. Likewise, actually." Lysandra glanced behind them. "Though I wouldn't have expected her to invite Aedion along. Aren't you two kinda rocky?"

"Aedion's fine." said Rowan. He looked shifty, but Lysandra was too much a lady to call attention to it. They both glanced over their shoulders, where Aelin and Aedion were practically wrestling. Rowan let out a long suffering sigh.

"You get used to it." added Lysandra, who had several hours with the cousins together under her belt. Aelin was currently hanging off Aedion's back, trying not to slip off and screeching as he swung her around. 

"If you told me seven months ago that  _this_ was what Aelin Galathynius was like, there's no way I'd believe it."

"It's cute, though." said Lysandra. "I knew A when she was...not really that stable."

Celaena. She had known Celaena.

"And ever since Aedion came back into her life, it's like she's really turned it around." she finished. Lysandra shook her head. "Not important! We're all happy and hungry and downtown. Where do you want to eat?"

Rowan shrugged. "I'm not the picky one in our relationship."

Lys snorted. "Okay, but from what I've heard we  _both_ know that's not true." she turned back around. "Oi, Aelin! Where do you want to luncheon?" 

Aelin and Aedion looked up, startled. Aelin slowly slid off her cousin's back. "Um."

Lysandra and Rowan both rolled their eyes. Aelin slung an arm around Aedion's shoulders and strode forward to catch up with the others. 

"Well, there's no point in pretending to be dignified now." said Rowan, eyebrow raised.

Aelin stuck her tongue out at him. "Look, just cause all of  _your_ cousin's are awful..."

A smile broke through the taller man's face. Aelin shared the look, and practically glowed up at them. 

Behind her, Aedion fake gagged again, catching Lysandra's eye. She smirked and locked arms with him. "It looks like we're the sane ones, for once." she declared loftily.

"Oh, shut up." said Aelin, breaking eye contact. "Where do you want to eat?"

"I  _just_ asked that?"

"I don't care." said Rowan and Aedion at the same time. They looked at each other, wary, and turned back a little too quickly. There was definite flush in Aedion's cheeks.

"Well, haha, no." said Aelin. She looked to Rowan. "Are you still vegetarian?" 

"Oi, Whitethorn, you're vegetarian?" 

"No-" started Rowan.

"He gets guilty about the whole eating animals thing like, once every three months." said Aelin. "Assuming you're guilt free for the moment, we've got more choices. Lys, you got your pills?"

The girl turned scarlet. "Aelin! Those are not supposed to be public knowledge." she half whispered. 

"Come on." said Aelin. She gestured to the boys. "It's  _them_."

"What pills?" asked Aedion, suddenly looking concerned. "Are you...Lys, have you-"

"Oh, shut up, you moron." snapped Lysandra. "I'm lactose intolerant. I take lactase supplements." 

Aedion let out a nervous laugh.

"Jesus." said Lysandra. "We're done with this. Let's just go to the shitty Olive Garden that overlooks Time Square."

"I hate Olive Garden."

"Everyone fucking hates Olive Garden. Let me live." said Lys. 

Aelin threw an arm around her shoulders. "Hon."

Rowan was blinking like an owl. "I'll be a vegetarian again if it mean we  _don't_ go to Olive Garden."

"Hah, too bad, bitches." said Lysandra. "To the subway!"

"It's going to be so crowded." said Rowan as the girls started steering them down the block. 

"Olive Garden has vegetarian options, anyway." 

They went to Olive Garden. It was crowded. Rowan was looking smug all through his mushroom ravioli. Lysandra dipped her fingernail in the Aelin's glass of Merlot and flicked the wine at him in retaliation. 

"Just to be clear," said Aedion as they were looking over a dessert menu. "No one is enjoying the food, right?"

"Unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks is the world's best creation." deadpanned Rowan. 

"Fuck you, I'm getting the five layer chocolate cake." said Aelin. 

 Surprisingly, Aelin's purpose was kinda sorta achieved. Her most important people got to know each other, sometimes a little too well. 

 _(Lysandra turned to her, eyes wide. "You dated a_ Blackbeak _?"_

_Rowan choked on his unlimited minestrone soup._

_Aelin sent finger guns her way. "The hate sex was pretty-"_

_Her words were drowned out by protests from the men of the table._ )

Predictably, Rowan and Lysandra seemed to bond over the simple fact that they  _weren't_ related. Though the talk was kept to a minimum, there was a moment when all they had were drinks that they went around the table and got the hard part out of the way: their old gangs and when they had gotten clean.

_("Assassin, Arobynn Hamel." said Aelin. "Three years ago."_

_"Maeve's fae. Six months."_

_"Adarlan. Two and a half years clean." said Aedion._

_Lysandra lifted her chin. "Madame Clarisse. Three weeks.")_

Aelin had laughed afterwords and declared no shop talk at the table. Still, there was a veiled understanding that stretched across, simply condensed to the way Rowan told Lysansdra to add lemon to her tea because it promoted general healthiness. 

After Aelin had devovered her cake, and after Lysandra had picked at her tiramisu bravely before shaking her head sadly and letting Aedion go at it, all four sat back, spent. 

"This is the worst kinda teen movie." said Aelin.

"We're literally all in our twenties." said Aedion, a pointed glance at Rowan (who was still too old by his standards to be dating his cousin).

Aelin elbowed him. "Six years, kid, calm down."

"Better topic." said Lysandra, shaking her head. "Something positive. Go."

"You first." challenged Aedion.

"I tossed my laxatives this morning. Flushed 'em." said Lysandra boldly. As if this was an everyday occurrence. Aelin let out a soft gasp, reaching out to touch her friend's hand.

"Really, Lys?"

"Really." said Lysandra. "I've still got some of my old stuff in my apartment...my toothbrushes, but it's a start." 

"That's wonderful." said Aelin warmly. 

Aedion looked like he had been hit around the head. Lysandra smiled lightly at him. "Congrats." he said, voice cracking.

Rowan surreptitiously slid her cup of tea slightly away from her, and Lysandra laughed. "No, Whitethorn, that's an ana trick. Not my branch. I'm good, really. Thank you."

"I take back what I said about the lemon."

"Aelin, you next." said Lysandra, pushing forward.

Aelin smiled. "Oh, I'm just so please I can be here with all of you today..."

She was met by groans from the other three.

"You politician, you." said Aedion.

Rowan just met her gaze, still snickering lightly, and they exchanged a long series of lingering looks Lysandra and Aedion rolled their eyes at.

"PDA, Aelin, gross."

"But really." said Aelin. "I'm happy none of us are dead."

And it sounded so throwaway, callous, but she really meant it. 

"Aedion. You next." 

Aedion shrugged. "I was accepted into the police academy yesterday."

Aelin shrieked so loudly the other patrons of Time Square Olive Garden almost heard her over the noise already present. "You  _what_?  _Yesterday?_ You absolute bastard, why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged again. Aelin stood up abruptly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She looked ready for a fight. "On your feet, Ashryver!"

Aedion looked struck. "What? Here?  _Now_?"

"Off your ass, cousin dearest."

"Wait, what?" said Lysandra. 

Aedion stood up and stood about two feet from his cousin, directly facing her. Their feet were shoulder width apart, and the look of concentration on their faces where comical if both Rowan and Lysandra hadn't seen both of them tear up their enemies without a second thought.

The setting of an Olive Garden was a little strange, though.

"Ready?" asked Aelin, her voice serious. There was still a distinct aftertaste of excitement in her words. Aedion nodded.

"Wait, Aelin." started Rowan, looking confused. He cut himself off as the cousins began to move however, and his jaw dropped.

"Um." said Lysandra. "Are they-"

Rowan shook his head, eyes fixed on Aelin and Aedion, who were executing a very complicated secret handshake in the middle of an restaurant.

"Oh jesus." said Lysandra. "Oh, fucking hell."

Aelin flourished a hand as Aedion set up for what seemed to be some sort of elbow-knee maneuver. As Lysandra and Rowan watched, they performed an identical hair flip.

"I'm leaving." said Rowan.

"Right with you." said Lysandra weakly. 

The cousins took turns spinning each other under their arms, and finished with a double high five. They looked positively elated. Rowan had never been more terrified of anything in his life. 

"That was good." Aelin was saying, excited. "I know we had to compensate for the lack of butterfly knives, but-"

Lysandra and Rowan shared a look. He offered an arm and she gladly took it and walked towards the door, leaving their friends giddy in the middle of an Olive Garden.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one is gonna be rowaelin af. this one was gonna be a cute rowaelin thing but then i remembered the super secret cousin handshake  
> keep it real, folks


	3. The Swan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aelin goes to a ball, and Rowan asks her to dance. He has ulterior motives. So does she.

**The Swan**

Lysandra had helped her pick out the dress she was wearing that night, all silver studded and Rihanna fashion, complete with silver stilettos Aelin had always wanted to try and use as a weapon. 

_"Think about it," she would say. "Would you attack with the pointy ends?"_

_"Chill out, Buffy." Aedion had said. "Can you even balance in those?"_

_"Haha, screw you."_

The annual Columbia Barrister's Ball wasn't a very opulent experience, but the school board tried their best. It was at least held in a relatively classy hotel, and all the law school students in attendance were dressed to the nines. The food was notoriously bad, and as this was Aelin's third and final ball, she knew to load up on food beforehand. 

It was, however, her first ball going solo. Her first year she had dragged Aedion with her, and Dorian had come on the second. There was no need for it, considering half of her friends already had invitations. Manon Blackbeak hadn't even attended Columbia and they still managed to tangle halfway through the party last year. 

As an Ivy League senior, Aelin felt she should show slightly more decorum this year. But Aedion was busy that night (with Lys, probably, so _she_ was off the table) and Dorian...well, Dorian wasn't up to going anywhere. Aelin was pretty sure Chaol already had another invite, Elide was here  _somewhere_ , probably due to someone Manon knew's grace. She didn't really have a problem going alone, but Aelin wished she had someone to snark with rather than having to seek out friends for that purpose. She already saw everyone in her class on a more than regular basis. 

For now, Aelin was content to help herself to the open bar and scan the dance floor for revolving couples, aka her source of gossip and amusement. After twenty minutes or so, she ducked into the bathroom to make sure her makeup was in place. It was a futile experience, Lysandra had practically drowned her in setting spray. Aelin looked fine. To alleviate some boredom, she lightly brushed a mascara wand over her lashed again, and scrubbed her teeth of any evidence of her maroon lipstick. When she was finally forced to leave, she smacked straight into Elide Lochan. Or rather, the shorter girl's head collided with Aelin's chin.

"Oh, goodness-"

"Sorry, sorry." said Aelin by reflex, massaging her chin. Maybe some of Elide's makeup had gotten on her face and Aelin could go back in the bathroom. "Oh, Elide, honey."

Elide beamed up at her. "Hey, cousin A."

She looked pretty, in a dress of brown so static literally no one but Elide could pull it off. It was a one shoulder dress in solid satin-silk, and her long dark hair was swept over her shoulder. 

"Finally off crutches, then?" asked Aelin, looping an arm easily around her cousin's shoulder. Elide seemed to be wearing flats, so Aelin towered over her.

"Yes." said Elide. "I've got to go back to physical therapy next week though."

Aelin tutted sympathetically. "Does it still hurt?"

"Well, I won't be waltzing anytime soon." said the shorter girl, laughing. "But it's not all bad. Manon dotes over me."

And Aelin choked out a laugh, cause the idea of Manon Blackbeak doting on  _anyone_ was comical. "So you two are still going strong."

Elide blushed. "Yeah, I suppose. I mean, I never really know where I stand with her, but I think we're in a good place right now. You ever feel like that?"

"I'm normally the one setting the pace in my relationships." said Aelin, but it was only half the truth. With Sam, it was give and take, though she did seem to carry more weight. While they had been together, she had jokingly chalked it up to his lack of competence compared to her. Now the thought made her sick. 

As for Chaol, their relationship was messy enough without their brief romance. Since he had dragged her skin and bones from her addiction and Arobynn, they settled into a rhythm of friendship they couldn't have achieved back when she needed him as her support.

"So, who are you here with?" asked Aelin, blinking back the thoughts. 

"Ren." said Elide. "Manon found out I wanted to go, and she didn't want me to go alone."

"Ah, so Blackbeak's stayed at Fordham where she belongs?"

"Yes, this year. I'm only here because I thought Dorian would be here." admitted Elide. "He hasn't been returning my calls."

Aelin's smile froze.

"You wouldn't know anything about what's happened, right?"

"No, sorry." said Aelin. "I know he's...better. The problem's been fixed, but the emotional toll is wearing on him."

While Elide hadn't been in the inner circle as Chaol and Aelin pushed for Dorian's freedom, she knew the gist. "Okay. You'll let me know if he needs anything."

"Of course."

"Hey," said the other girl, smiling wryly. "Terrasen first, right? Dorian's one of us now."

Aelin gave a small smile in return. "Right."

Elide's date, Ren Allsbrook and another family friend stalked up to the girls, expression like a thundercloud. "Hey," he barked. "Am I literally just here to stand in a corner, or what?"

"Sorry." said Elide, letting out a small laugh. "Do you want to dance."

Ren looked at her doubtfully. " _Can_ you dance?"

"It's not a complicated dance just yet. Just a normal, revolve around in a circle kind. I can handle that."

He shrugged. "Sure." and then catching sight of Aelin, Ren looked up and gave her a deep nod. "Aelin."

"Hey, Ren." smiled Aelin, reaching up to ruffle his hair. "Ah, so I see Aedion's covering for  _you_ , tonight?"

"While I'm supposed to be covering for you." said Ren, swatting her hand away. "Good to see you."

"You too." Aelin shoo'd them away from her. "Well, go on, go dance!"

Elide threw her another quick smile before taking Ren's arm and leading him to the dance floor. Aelin let out a heavy sigh, suddenly desperate for a wall to her back. She retreated back to the bar, smiling at the bartender as he handed her a whiskey. It was really more of Lys's drink, but Aelin knocked it back quick. The burn in her stomach was comforting, and Aelin suddenly remembered why she didn't like clear liquors as much as this stuff. Or wine. She was a wine kind of girl. 

The dances changed, and a string quintet took their place at the stage. They struck up a slow waltz. Aelin watched Elide shrug at her partner, before walking off the floor with him. More and more couples began to fill the floor up, and she lost sight of them.

"Aelin."

Aelin blinked. It had been a half year since she had heard that voice, but she could still pick it out in a crowd. She smiled, brittle at the irony, and half turned. "Rowan Whitethorn."

He looked different. Last Aelin had seen him, he was accosting her in the shadows outside Columbia dorms, preaching to her. His hair was shorter now, practically-Jesus, he had gotten an undercut. Aelin stifled the giggles threatening to burst from her chest. An  _undercut_. He looked like an edgy hipster, especially with the dyed silver hair. He honestly fit right into the Columbia crowd. The face and neck tattoos were as unapologetic as always, but paired with a suit the effect was downright bizarre. 

But he still looked very, very handsome, and Aelin cursed the way her chin automatically tilted to look up at him. In earnest. 

Rowan seemed to swell up, breathing in deep. It didn't look like he was prepared to see her either. He took a step closer, and Aelin allowed that, because the space between them still felt astronomical. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but shook his head and took another step. She stepped back, matching him. Too close was too close.

He got the point, and Rowan didn't try to move any closer. But he was barely blinking, practically drinking her in. Aelin, instead of feeling self conscious of the way she was dressed, look, grew bold. It was Rowan, after all. She knew him. 

But he beat her to it. "You look beautiful. Different. But beautiful."

Thankfully, Aelin's gang years as Celaena forced her to learn how to control her blush. But it still felt a little difficult to breathe. "I-I like your hair." she said, the corner of her mouth moving infinitesimally upwards.

It was enough ground for Rowan. "Shut up," he said immediately. 

Aelin smile widened, but just a little. Rowan took a step closer, and this time she didn't back up. "Dance with me."

It sounded like a demand. "Why?"

"Because you should."

Aelin scoffed lightly, still amused. 

"And because you love this song."

"What?" 

Rowan looked a little sheepish. He pointed to the quintet. "'The Swan'. Camille Saint-Saens. It's your favorite composer."

She listened, and he was right. She did love this song. She also remembered when she had told him that. They had both laid out on their backs, sweaty and utterly spent with exertion after a sparring match. There was warm sun on green grass. Aelin had spoken in a low voice, conducting with her left hand, telling him that the music sounded like moonlight and stars and that when it ended the audience would still feel like there were after notes ringing through the auditorium. 

Rowan took another step. "Dance with me, Aelin."

"Why?" she repeated.

"Because I think you should."

"You mean you want me to."

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

And that was enough. He held out a hand. She slowly slid her palm into his, almost expecting sparks. Instead there was just his warm dry skin sliding against the callouses on her fingers. And it was still enough.

Rowan led her out onto the floor, but he stayed near the outskirts. He took her waist, and Aelin clasped his other hand. There was still astronomical space between them, they were holding each other as though it were the nineteenth century and he had only just begun to court her.

Not that he was courting her, of course.

Aelin wasn't smiling anymore. She just looked at him with her wide eyes, framed with intent and expensive mascara. Together, they stepped, and both were decent enough at the waltz to continue studying the other while spinning round the ballroom.

"You look good." she said, surprising even herself. Rowan raised an eyebrow. "I realized I never returned the compliment."

The lilting notes of The Swan rose above them.

"You told me you liked my hair."

And Aelin couldn't help but reach up with the hand perched on his shoulder and ruffle it, still surprised with how short it was at the nape of his neck. "I do."

Rowan had inhaled quietly but sharply at her touch, and a familiar calculating look gleamed in his gaze. Aelin noticed, and she grinned properly at him for the first time that night. He shook his head and yanked her closer, so they no longer resembled Darcy and Elizabeth's first dance, but rather the other twelve couples dancing on the floor.

She collided with his chest, and his hand's pressure on her waist increased. She wasn't going anywhere.

The downside to this, of course, was that now he was looking down at her, and she had to crane up to look at him. And though the atmosphere between them has a hundred times friendlier, Aelin's breath still caught in her throat as she realized how close they were. 

"What are you doing here, Rowan?" her voice was low.

"I needed to talk to you."

"So you came to the Barrister's Ball. Dressed like  _that_? Hon, the last time I saw you in something other than sweatpants and muscle tees-"

"Don't." said Rowan. His thumb skimmed over their clasped hands. "I don't know if you've noticed, but this isn't exactly a business call. No matter if it's supposed to be."

"Business?" the word turned sour in her mouth.

Rowan licked his lips, steeling himself. "Aelin, this is about-"

"Oh, Jesus." The truth dawned on her. "This is about six months ago. You still want me to..."

" _You_ wanted to. We talked about this, Aelin, years ago, you wanted to bring her down."

Aelin shook her head. "My family is  _safe_." she hissed. "My family is safe. I've already taken the bar exam. Elena _fucking_ Havilliard offered me a job. Arobynn has been dealt with. I'm done, Rowan. This is my happy ending."

"Postpone it." said Rowan shortly.

"You're seriously asking me to fight again?" asked Aelin incredulously. "I thought you knew me, what I've been through."

His grip tightened on her waist, and as mad as she was, her heartbeat stuttered. "I do." growled Rowan. "Don't think for a second I don't know you, Aelin, and that's why I'm telling you,  _please_ , act now or she'll rip away everything you've got."

Aelin's heart stopped. "Oh my god, she doesn't know you're here."

Rowan dipped his head. 

Aelin gasped, cradling his face with a hand. "You absolute idiot, Rowan Whitethorn, she's going to kill you."

"She'll go after your whole family. Won't stop at me."

He spun her under his arm. When she came back to him, her gaze was stony. "She couldn't touch my people if she tried."

"She will."

Aelin thought of her court, her beautiful friends. "I'm not going to let that happen."

"The you'll stand with me?" he asked quietly. "Aelin, I saw. I  _saw_ how far you went to destroy Adarlan and Arobynn for your friends-"

"Arobynn was for me." she said, steel in her voice.

Rowan nodded, conceding. "You destroyed them. And I know you hate Maeve. I don't have a choice, I'm going after her no matter what. She's got a kill order on me, I don't have much room to move. But I can't win against her without you." 

Aelin snapped her gaze back to his face. "A kill order? Rowan, what-coming here was too dangerous a move to make-"

"I needed to see you. Talk to you."

"And accosting me outside campus wasn't going to work, so you chose a public place you knew I'd be at." said Aelin dryly. "You're a fool."

"Maybe."

"Maeve needs to die." said Aelin. "That cannot be contested. But my life right now, it's good. I'm clean. I'm safe, in school, I can make a difference in this world without my knives."

"She needs more immediate justice than that." And Rowan looked away, and Aelin understood.

"This is about Lyria."

He looked at her, eyes filled with a shock and rage she hadn't seen on him since their first days together. "What?"

His tone was flat, deadly, but Aelin was a tough scare. "You stayed with her after Lyria's death cause you didn't have an exit route. Now you're out for blood cause of what she did to your girl. You're finally off your leash long enough to get mad."

"And shouldn't I be?" he hissed. "Is this not exactly your situation? Only I was expected to play nice with her after her death, and as soon as your Sam died you went on a rampage that nearly killed you and me."

'The Swan' ended, and the string quintet picked up a faster waltz. Aelin's jaw dropped slightly. 

"Did you seriously just...?"

"Tell me how it's different." he demanded, and they began swirling round the dance floor, faster and faster. 

"I was  _not_ the person I am today, Rowan! I had a drug problem to work through, and I had no one in my corner at all. That's changed." 

Rowan glanced off to his left, and Aelin followed his gaze. Chaol stood slightly off the dance floor, talking animatedly with his date, Nesryn Faliq. Aelin would've smiled at them had she not been busy staring daggers at her own dance partner. 

"So maybe it's not." said Aelin, allowing him to spin her. "Maybe it's the same."

"I'm not asking you to do this for me."

"Rowan, if this was for you, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

He started. Aelin understood why he was harping on her so much, why he kept pushing her to go after Maeve. "What? Then why?"

"Why do you want me to do this?" asked Aelin.

"Because you should."

"That's not gonna cut it. Real reason."

He looked away. "Because if you don't stand your ground-"

"There." said Aelin, shaking her head. "You're doing this so I can have a fucking chance to grow. So I become stronger. What the  _fuck_ , Rowan? I thought you were done instructing me."

"I get that you think this is your happy ending." said Rowan, more like the gruff person she thought he was years ago that she had ever seen him. "But it's not. It never will be unless you take care of everyone that can threaten your life stability."

" _You_ threaten my life stability." grumbled Aelin.

"Then kill me."  said Rowan shortly. Aelin scoffed and looked away.

"You're an asshole."

"We discussed this." he said. "I can't be the asshole in this relationship if  _you're_ here."

Aelin was really proud of herself when she didn't laugh at that. 

"You'll go to bat for your court. For me." He spat the last two words out like they were poison. "But not for your own safety? She's gunning for you, Aelin."

"Let her come." said Aelin simply. "I'm done chasing after people."

"And if you run? If a life on the run ruins all this, your job, your school-everything?"

"Give me another reason." she said, looking up at him. "Give me another reason. Just one. It's all I need."

Rowan grit his teeth. "It's the only way to get you to fight?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "She knows who Aedion's father is."

Genuine panic spiked through Aelin's body, sharp fear striking her spine. " _What?"_

"It's Gav. I don't know if you remember him."

Aelin felt iced over. "No, if she thinks she has  _any_ claim to him..."

"So?" asked Rowan, disappointed. 

"Why the fuck didn't you lead with that? I'm taking the bitch down."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will probably do a part 2 to this which'll be more romance, u kno. i just rlly feel this whole aelin wants to be a lawyer thing  
> next one's gonna be about celaena, tho. writing her is the best.
> 
> Let me know how this went? Keep it real. Next thing I'm gonna post will be PLTLWM.


	4. Fight or Flight pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celaena is drunk and 100% ready to fight. Rowan is exhausted and lightly terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two part series, each detailing a significant fight from both Aelin and Celaena's lives.  
> I did this cause 1) i am a martial arts nerd who wants to deconstruct both of their styles and 2) i made a tumblr post about Celaena being black widow and Aelin being Peggy Carter
> 
> both parts will have a sprinkle of rowaelin, even tho this one is about Celaena and she's not having any of him today

**Fight or Flight part 1: "The Knife Thrower"**

A bottle of vodka in hand, sky high heels underneath her, smile sharp as glass-was there any other way to live?

Celaena had been on her way back to her flat, pretending Rowan Whitethorn hadn't been trailing her since she left the bar, in his desperate bid to train her for Maeve. She had been leaving a little trail for him in sloshed vodka. Celaena was drunk, this she knew, and as she sang out clear, unintelligible notes in her high voice, she realized Whitethorn wasn't the only attention she had gathered. 

"You say this is a game, so take your place! You set the mask upon your face!"

Four men were tailing her, keeping to corners well enough so she couldn't tell which group they belonged to. There were plenty of people after Celaena at the moment, but considering that she belonged to no one and was in territory that wasn't after her (Queens. She hated Queens, but it was the only place she could get drunk in peace.). 

"My silhouette in the air you trace," sang Celaena gaily, tottering on her shoes, positively brimming for a good fight. "And the dagger performs with a start!"

She took a swing from the bottle of Grey Goose, humming past words she didn't know. The shadows were getting closer, and her smile waned with every step they took. "And when the nimbus groans with thunder, think of the clothes all cast asunder-"

Celaena stopped walking, resting a hand on the wall of a building next to her. Very quickly, she ran logistics. There were four men. Her black slip of a dress did nothing to hold weapons, so all she had was herself. Also, she was more than a little tipsy.

Quite personally, she wasn't worried. The men were practically out in the open now, practically right behind her. "Fragrant, the rose is filled with wonder,"

She spun, suddenly, flourishing madly with her arms and loudly singing the last line in the verse: "Oh, all that is left of my heart!"

To live was to fight. That was all that was important for her. The only caveat she had to live by. A bottle of vodka in hand, sky high heels underneath her, smile sharp as glass-was there any other way to live? Was there any other way to fight?

Her voice cracked on the high note, but there was a beat before all hell broke loose. In her spin, Celaena had observed each man, and noticed the small wyvern pins on their lapels. Adarlan, then. Good, she hated Adarlan. They had been taken aback by her spin, and were probably green enough to think that her smeared makeup and cheap heels meant she was an easy target. Celaena may as well enjoy herself.

They lunged for her at the same time, but she was ahead of the game. Celaena grinned, mad, and smashed her bottle against the building wall. She turned, without giving any of them chance to recover, slid to her knees and slashed at one's calves and hamstrings. The rain soaked cobblestones (Did she mention she hated Queens? _Cobblestones_ , honestly.) let her slip past them smooth as butter, even as they tore the skin of her uncovered knees to ribbons. She was up on her feet immediately afterwards, enjoying the burn in her muscles already. She had a handful of broken glass in one hand and the kind of smile that most people had nightmares about.

Her opponents rallied. Celaena allowed one to charge her before kicking high enough to catch his neck, and stay there. She swung up onto his shoulders, until his head was between her thighs and twisted as hard as she could to the side. There was an almighty  _crack_! noise, and she grinned. That was either his neck or his collarbone. He began to fall, and she with him, but one of the other men landed a lucky kick to her ribs before she was up again. Celaena grunted, her core tightening-it stung, but she had been hit by much worse, much harder.

She repaid him by throwing what glass she had held onto into his face before grinding her palm into his eyes. Celanea sidestepped his blind flail to drive an elbow almost directly upwards into a man's nose, crushing it and probably what brain cells he had left. There was a knife sticking out of his back pocket, a standard box cutter, and she snagged it before the fourth and only unharmed man went for her. Hooking her heel around a man behind her-the one with the shredded hamstrings, she thought-Celaena sidestepped, sending him tumbling to the ground in the path of the fourth man. He tripped, and Celaena kicked high, landing a solid roundhouse to his head. She kicked like a dancer, arcing and graceful, but no doubt packed with power. 

"Bitch," one of them snarled.

Celaena laughed. "Oh, maybe. Absolutely." 

Her fist struck out, sucker punching the speaker in the next. Her expression was dead glass again, as it always was when she assumed a boxer's stance. Despite her time with judo and capoeira, despite tumbling practices and rudimentary ballet-she always came back to boxing. Street fighting wasn't like the ring, however, so Celaena grabbed her stolen box cutter and smoothly cut a line on his face, temple to jaw. 

The man choked and gurgled, stepping back. Celaena raised her foot and braced it against his face before pushing backwards, hard. "But whatever I am, you are  _less_ than me. And always will be."

There were four men on the cobblestones around her, each in some state of disrepair. Celaena frowned when she realized she had wasted a half full bottle of vodka- _Grey Goose_ vodka nonetheless. Well, at least the men she had just beaten got a free disinfectant with their wounds.

The wyvern pins glinted in the dark gloom of the night. Celaena swirled her tongue around her dry mouth, gathering saliva, and spat at their feet.

"Unseemly." said a deep male voice behind her.

"Ain't that a self portrait, Princeling." said Celaena, without turning around. She was slightly miffed Rowan Whitethorn had caught up to her just to observe.

The Fae member walked round to face her, and she was struck by how tall he was in comparison to her. Height never matter much to her. She was average for a woman, but men a foot taller could fall easily under her ministrations. But Rowan wasn't like the men sprawled out beneath her. His body was coiled with power, and drunk and off balance as she was, Celaena didn't think she could kill him right now.

'Don't call me that."

"Why not? You're basically Maeve's successor."

"I'm no where near her favor." 

"Well you're hanging around me, that's why." said Celaena, trying to sidestep him.

Rowan stepped back into her path firmly. "She wants me here."

"I  _don't_.'

"Too bad."

She tried moving past him again, but he stepped in front of her again. "Jesus, get out of my way."

Rowan was staring at her. "This is more than familial obligation. Maeve wants you with her because of your mother's lineage, yes, but you've proven yourself against Adarlan, with Hamel-"

"Shut the fuck up and  _get out_ of my way." snarled Celaena. Proven herself? _Proven_ herself? The only thing she had proven was her complete subjugation to her base needs-she had no purpose. No  _friends_. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to an equally emotionally stunted Fae.

Being incredibly emotionally stunted, Rowan paid her no heed. "You're drunk."

"Correct."

"Once again, unseemly." said Rowan impassively. "Your fight showed it. You shouldn't be playing with assassins, if they're here to kill you, kill them quickly and move on. Don't stick around for the fun of the match."

She let out a bark of laughter. "You want me to forego the only pleasure I get in this life?" Celaena took a step forward. "Don't pretend it's just me, either. I've seen the way you fight."

"Adrenaline is different than play." snapped Rowan. "Why don't you box more? You can hit, and hard too. Why waste time with your tricks if they aren't necessary?"

"I spent a lot of time learning them." she answered. "Much better scare technique if I flip round a man's neck rather than hitting him in the solar plexus really hard."

"And you endanger yourself, you're-" he gestured vaguely to her bloodied knees. "That wasn't necessary. Neither was smashing your bottle if you didn't use the glass effectively, your hand is bleeding-"

"I love the concern." she drawled. "But we're done here. I'm not going to your home base. And I'm staying far away from Wendlyn."

"Training in Doranelle is an honor."

"Don't care. I hate Brooklyn." Celaena stumbled sideways, and Rowan caught her elbow to steady her.

"You're  _drunk_." he said again, a little surprised. "What are you even doing in Queens?"

"Getting drunk."

"I-" Rowan sounded both exasperated with her and still a little shocked. "Where do you live?"

"Far away from you."

"Thanks," he said dryly, rolling his eyes. "You're not getting back by yourself, I'll walk you."

"Or you may walk me down to your girl in Brooklyn. My aunt." The world was tipping over, getting blurred. "I'm fine."

Rowan paid her no mind. "What the hell were you thinking? Dressed like that too, you could wake up in a really compromising situation."

"Don't slut shame." said Celaena. "I look hot."

"You look fucked up." said Rowan shortly. "Plenty of people take advantage of that."

"You too, looks like."

"I'm done with this. I give you my word I'll take you back to your apartment." said Rowan.

Celanea shrugged. "Oh."

"Oh what?"

"Do as you like." said Celaena. She closed her eyes. "I don't care. It looks like I'm blacking out."

Rowan made an outraged noise as she faded out completely, catching her quickly before she hit the rain slick ground. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw rowan had no clue where she lived, so he took her to his satellite apartment (which happens to be in Queens). He couldn't take her to his actual place in Brooklyn (Wendlyn in case u didn't catch that) cause he promised. The Queens apartment was originally Lyria and Gavriel's, when they were roommates near five years ago.  
> The song Celaena was singing is The Knife Thrower by Mirah.
> 
> reviews are celaena winning her fights!


	5. Fight or Flight pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aelin is done with finals and just wants pizza. A man interrupts, and it ends badly. For him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this actually ended up being three parts? sorry. anyway this was so short I decided to post both parts 2 and 3 together. have fun!!

**Fight or Flight part 2: "Practicality in Law"**

The sun was out, finals were over, and the entire campus of Columbia Law was buzzing, Aelin among them. She grinned at her classmates as she left lecture hall, and fully intending to go to her and Aedion's apartment and sleep for eight days, headed for the subway.

A welcome sight stopped her. Lysandra, in an emerald green coat and heels was waiting for her at the subway entrance.

“Lys!” she cried, heading over and hugging the girl. “How are you? What are you doing here.”

“I just thought I'd celebrate with you, now that you're finals free.” said Lysandra, hooking an arm around hers. “Lunch?”

Aelin cocked her head. “Honestly, L, I was planning on sleeping.”

“I know, but consider this: I _may_ have told the cook at La Famillia it was your last day of finals, and you _may_ have three free pizza pies waiting for you.” said Lysandra, grinning.

“I love that man,” sighed Aelin. She cast a mischievous look at Lysandra. “ _And_ you.” she said, smacking a kiss on the other girl's cheek.

Lysandra pretended not to blush.

“Okay, you've convinced me.” declared Aelin. “Take me there.”

They both laughed, and Aelin allowed herself to be pulled across the street. 'It's only two blocks.” said Lysandra. “I know you're tired.”

“Two blocks is nothing.” answered Aelin. “Come on, now that you've reminded me that I can't survive on whiskey, Starbucks turbo shots, and prepackaged banana chips, I'm actually kinda hungry.”

“I'll never forgive Aedion for feeding you that crap.”

“Oh, it was all my fault, trust me.”

They were around a block down when it happened. A snarling voice from the shadows behind a sandwich shop called out to them as they walked by.

“Hey, Princess!”

Aelin froze. Lysandra shoved a hand into her bag so quickly it surprised both of them, to where she knew a bottle of mace rested. She looked to Aelin for directions. The blonde simply lay a hand on Lysandra's wrist, direction enough; she removed her hand from her bag.

She turned quickly to see a ratty looking man leaning against a dumpster. “You talking to me?” she asked, voice calculating and very much a warning sign.

The man grinned. “Yeah. Princess.”

Aelin sighed. “I don't go by that identifier.”

“We know you do.”

He was wearing a black wyvern pin, and Aelin's brow furrowed. “Adarlan?”

“No.” said the man, predatory, stalking closer. Aelin didn't move, didn't even shift her weight from it's relaxed state. “Valg.”

She had never heard of the- _oh_. The Valg was an old gang, so old the other Assassins with her insisted they were a myth. Black wyverns, though, Adarlan's sign-what was going on?

“I wouldn't come any closer if I were you.” said Aelin coldly, glancing at her fingernails.

“I wouldn't be walking around in broad daylight if I were _you_. Especially not dressed like that.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow, gesturing at her impeccable cream pant suit. Part of her final included moot court, after all.

“It's like you're advertising yourself.” snarled the man. “Like you think you've made it out.”

She lightly touched her gleaming hair, gold and cropped at her shoulders, a la Marilyn, albiet straighter. It wasn't so long ago she dyed it platinum. “I have made it out.”

“No. But you're easy pickings now.”

The man lunged for her, and Lysandra wisely jumped backwards. Aelin didn't move until he was close enough, before grabbing his fist and twisting it into a rough chicken wing, nearly dislocating his arm. The man—the Valg—cried out, trying to twist out of the hold. Aelin let go of him, and when he tried again, went for his pointed finger. She grabbed the digit and yanked upwards, breaking his finger. She drove an open hand, fingers stiffened, into his solar plexus and chopped down with her other hand on the pressure point on his neck.

The Valg went down, and hard. Aelin stepped back lightly, making sure her suit was still impeccable. There was no need to prove herself now. What hurt her opponents fastest was the best option. She had grown up, and she didn't have time to enjoy violence like she used to-but Aelin knew what would sting the most.

“I wouldn't contact me again, if I were you.” said Aelin. She turned to Lysandra, who was watching her with a critical eye. “Pizza?”

“Pizza.” agreed the other girl.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls proceed to part 3! 
> 
> reviews are aelin acing all her finals


	6. Fight or Flight pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she wanted to fight, she fought pure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 3!! based on my whole 'aelin's a gosh darn boxer' theory

**Fight or Flight part 3: "Rebirth"**

She heard Rowan slam his weight into the metal of the cage wall, so she held a hand up behind her to him. To let him know it was okay, she would be okay, she wasn't scared.

“What is this, Arobynn?” asked Aelin in a cold voice. She was still smiling.

Her old mentor smiled back at her, equally chilly. “I thought you'd be pleased. I just thought it would be like old times, dear Celaena.”

“You may explain.” said Aelin imperiously. There was a glint in Arobynn's eyes—yes, that is something she would have said three years ago.

“I assumed you'd like to partake in some of your old habits.” he reached a hand into his pocket.

Aelin shook her head firmly. She was flirting with danger just by being here, at the Vaults with him, but this was a different story entirely. “No.” she said gently. “I don't do that anymore.”

He wouldn't, she thought. He would never. And though it sickened her, that she even trusted him a little, even with something like this, she was right. Arobynn's expression changed slowly, like syrup, so Aelin could see each emotion he went through. She yawned in his face. He was a master player, and she didn't have time to appreciate his carefully cultivated false personas.

“That's not what I meant.” said Arobynn, false sympathy in his voice. He removed what had been in his pocket—it looked like a key ring—and tossed it to Ress outside the ring. Ress caught the key and walked over to the lockers that lined the side of the room. Aelin felt her shoulders slump. She knew what was coming.

“What is this, an audition?” she said dryly. Ress unlocked a familiar locker, pulling out a bright white pair of shorts and a small black drawstring bag.

“Just for fun, Celaena.” said Arobynn, smile widening. “We've missed you, here. And you get your pick. Anyone in the Vaults tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow. _That_ was interesting. “You know who I want.”

“You'll be pleased to know that a Valg section leader is in the crowd tonight.” said her old mentor quietly.

Ress tossed her the shorts and the bag. Aelin caught them, her stomach twisting in discomfort. Even still, a genuine smile curled up along her lips. “I fight, and our deal is set? You give me the information on the Valg and Adarlan?”

“Set.” said Arobynn, nodding. “But we'll bargain.”

“Deal.” said Aelin, dropping what was in her hands to smoothly take off her cream t shirt. She heard Rowan make a strangled noise behind her, and grinned despite herself. She was wearing a modest sports bra, one thankfully comfortable enough to go into the ring in. Aelin shimmied out of her tights as well, completely shameless and yanked the white shorts up over her (admittedly embarrassing) lace underwear.

There were no wolf whistles from the crowd. Aelin kinda missed an environment where everyone was scared of her.

The black bag had hand wraps and her old boxing gloves. The gloves filled her with hard nostalgia, with a love that couldn't be tainted by Arobynn. Previously all her ring fights had been with hand wraps. The gloves were saved for orthodox matches. She only had one pair, and they were competition gloves. Training with the heavier sparring gloves was considered by Arobynn as unproductive, as they did less damage. Damage was always what he was trying to teach her. Aelin sucked in her cheeks, considering as she methodically wound the hand wraps round her wrists and forearms, before pulling out the black worn gloves and slinging them over her shoulder.

Arobynn's eyes narrowed.

There was also an ACE bandage, for her weak knee, and Aelin put it on as well. Even though she hated how well he knew her body, her left knee had never been that strong. Surprisingly, he had also included a mouth guard. That was something else she had never used. Aelin looked at Arobynn quizzically, but he just shrugged.

“Whenever you're ready, Cel.” he said, stalking out of the ring.

She didn't bother with the mouthpiece. Celaena had been known for amping up the crowd during her fights, and while Aelin didn't plan on that, she wasn't sure she could hold back a smile. In fact, she was already smiling dangerously as she slipped on the gloves, making sure they were tightly laced. They fit comfortably over the padding the wraps offered.

Aelin sent a quick glance behind her at Rowan, who's fingers were still curled around the metal of the cage. _I'm okay_ , she tried to say. _I need this, I need to show him_.

He nodded so slightly no one but her would've noticed. Rowan understood, but she knew that if it actually looked like she would lose, he'd step in.

Aelin smiled at him, letting him know it wouldn't be necessary. She had this. His lips twitched upwards in response, and Aelin turned back to the ring.

“Okay.” she said, her voice carrying like only a performer's would. “I'm ready.”

Like always, an official from the Vaults stepped in, announcing her to the world. He kept her name out of it, both Celaena and Aelin, and only referenced her as a returning champion.

“Your challenge, Champion?”

Aelin scanned the crowd for black wyvern pins. She found a clump of Valg sitting near the base of the ring. A slow smile spread across her face. “You.” she said, pointing at who was obviously their section leader.

The man was lithe, with brown hair and fish eyes as dead as the rest of his gang's. He returned her predatory grin with one of his own before allowing the official to help him up into the ring.

“You're sure about this, Princess?” he said in a gravelly voice.

Aelin went supernaturally still at the old nickname. Ah, he knew. “Scared, worm?”

“As you wish.”

The official hadn't called the fight yet, but the Valg leaped for her. He squeaked and stumbled out of the tall man's path, but Aelin let him come. She drew her foot back at the knee, pausing, waiting. The Valg was very fast, but she was smarter than she had been. When he was in just the right position, Aelin let her sneakered foot swing down and land exactly where it was supposed to—the side of his kneecap.

It was such a small movement the crowd wasn't sure what had happened. They, fickle things, let out a cry of approval anyway as the Valg lurched. Aelin stepped out of the way.

He snarled something at her, but honestly she couldn't make out the insult. Aelin felt anger bloom in her stomach, but not at the Valg. At Arobynn, for setting up this whole farce. He wanted to see her fight? He'd get one hell of a show.

Aelin stepped back two paces. She was done with her fancy tricks a long time ago, but this was no place to perform her normal techniques either. She was sure three pressure points could bring her opponent down, five minutes, tops. But Arobynn Hamel needed to see who she was. He needed to see a smack down.

The Valg got to his feet, shaky.

“Sorry.” said Aelin. “I got carried away. You're pretty annoying. I'll fight you proper now, promise.”

“Are you patronizing me?” hissed the Valg. He came after her again, and Aelin watched him, thinking. She almost wished she had let him take that first swing, because she had no idea what he was going to do. Had he been trained in anything other than street fighting? He drew his fist back in a sloppy, telegraphed move, but Aelin had been fighting enough Valg to know it was just a distraction. The real attack came from the other fist, a sharp jab to her forehead.

Aelin caught the hit on her gloves, arms up in a tight guard position. She leaned back, allowing the force of the weight to counter balance her as she drove a quick jab-cross combination into his stomach. His guard was sloppy. While he protected his face, she could reach under there easy. Aelin ducked and dodged, guard up always. But she was thinking too much like a boxer now.

The Valg dropped low, attempting to sweep her legs from under her. Aelin's foot work saved her, and she delicately skipped past him. She didn't even kick at him while he was down there though. This fight wasn't to win. She could win with her eyes closed, honestly. This fight was to show Arobynn Hamel that she wasn't Celaena anymore. When she wanted to fight, she fought _pure_ , she boxed. Not to chase a thrill. Not even for necessity, like she had before Rowan had come back into her life.

She acknowledged that she loved to fight, acknowledged that it was as much a part of her as her family was (as Aedion was). But when she fought, it was sport. Something to strive for, something that wasn't ugly anymore.

This time, as the Valg came up, she heard what he called her.

“Fuckin' whore, you really think your fae queen came save you now?”

“She's not here.” said Aelin coolly. “I am.”

It was like today's gang leaders didn't even do their research, or they'd know that Aelin was about three seconds from declaring war on Maeve too.

He swung at her, and it almost connected. “What, you think you're too good to fight me, now? All this boxing shit-”

“That's exactly what I think.”

“All this boxing shit, no girl has ever-”

'Okay, seriously? Laila Ali, Mary Kom!” said Aelin, emphasizing each word with a punch. “Ronda-fucking-Rousey!”

She had a poster of Mary Kom above her bed at Arobynn's. It was still probably there.

The Valg was all street in his movements, liquid and hard hits, striking like an adder. Thankfully, he wasn't the only one. Aelin's guard was high, her shoulders settling into the familiar position. She half expected him to have a concealed blade. It wasn't like anyone would penalize him for it in a Vault ring, though Arobynn probably didn't want her dead yet. If she had her way, that would change.

Aelin caught another fist on her forearm. The punch left the Valg wide open, and she drove a hook punch into the side of his head. Neither of them were wearing head gear, so that hit may have done more damage than Aelin had hoped. Her forearms and biceps had started to burn pleasantly with stress, and Aelin let them. It was an old feeling.

The Valg stumbled back, blinking, obviously disoriented from her hit. She may have even given him a concussion, as he swung at her more wildly than before. All the better for her. It was time to end it, so Aelin took advantage of his confusion to slam an uppercut into his chin.

There was a moment where the Valg stood, suspended, as the roar of the crowd grew louder. Then all at once, he fell backwards. It was a beautiful moment. Aelin looked at him, breathing a little harder than normal. He had been knocked out.

The Vault official leapt back into the ring and tried holding her hand up. Aelin didn't let him, stalking out of the ring with a cool kind of professionalism the Vault crowd hated. She met Rowan's gaze and walked up to him, chin raised. He turned as she reached him, and walked out of the Vaults slightly at her flank.

“We're leaving?” he asked, voice low.

“I can call in that favor with Arobynn whenever.” said Aelin, glancing up at him. “It's _me_.”

He made a small noise of approval. “That was a good fight.”

Aelin looked down at her hands, still tightly encased in black leather gloves. “I know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> promise i'll update PLTLWM next. once again, this is just cause i miss martial arts.
> 
> reviews are aelin's right hook


	7. Black Orchids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan tells Celaena a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter soundtrack: The Killers's All These Things I've Done (aka my forever Rowan song) and Earth by Sleeping at Last

**Black Orchids**

“So, are you gonna tell me about her?”

“About who?”

Celaena raised an eyebrow, and looked at the flowers that surrounded them. She reached out, grabbing at a tulip. Her fingers skimmed it's velvet underside, it's red petals smooth against her skin. “You expect me to believe this is your flower shop, Whitethorn?”

Rowan glared at her, still watering some geraniums. “It is mine. I own it.”

“Yeah.” said Celaena. “Pretty shitty location for a florist, though. Queens. You'd think you'd get more business on the Upper West.”

“We used to get a lot of business from Upper Manhattan.” said Rowan casually, misting plants with water. “The flowers here used to be...used to be...”

“They're beautiful, but a little ordinary.” said Celaena. “Why were you so popular among the rich and trendy?”

Rowan said nothing.

“Was it a specialty store?” she pressed. “Or perhaps you made good centerpieces?”

“Drop it, princess.”

“Who owned this shop before you, Rowan?” Celaena paused, averting her gaze. She honestly wasn't too sure if she should push or not. They were finally in a good place, she finally _trusted_ him, and maybe he did too. But if he was being so reticent over a small detail of his post (maybe pre) Maeve life, maybe he didn't feel the same.

She just wanted to listen to him the way he listened to her. She told him about...everyone, everything, her shame, her pride.

Rowan's grip on the spray bottle tightened. He noticeably swallowed, and she marveled again at how much power was coiled in every one of his movements. Finally, he spoke, his voice a short croak.

“Got a hair tie?”

She snapped him one off her wrist. It was a start, at least. Rowan swept his shoulder length hair into a secure bun, running a hand through the dyed strands. Gotta be patient, she told herself as Rowan made a mess of his hair. Patience.

“It was my wife's.”

Celaena looked up at him in shock. She knew he had a Sam, but his _wife_?

Rowan wasn't looking at her. “Her name was Lyria. She owned the store, she grew the flowers out back.”

“Okay.” Celaena decided on.

“She was, uh, good at this. Better than me, at any rate. We got special commissions from all around because of a couple of her specialty bred flowers. Those, and our black orchids.”

“You sold black orchids? That's really rare.”

He threw her a look, the ' _well yeah, dumbass_ ' look. “I know. She grew them year round. Still don't know how, I've barely been able to get five plants going since she—during my ownership of the store.”

Truth began to dawn on Celaena. “You used to live here.” With his _wife_. “Your apartment in Queens—“

“No, that was Lyria's, but not mine. She was Gavriel's room mate in that apartment, that's how we met. When we got married, we lived above the shop.” he spoke tonelessly.

“Okay.” said Celaena again.

“That's who owned the shop.” said Rowan, trying his best to sound casual. Celaena could hear the exertion in his voice.

His wife. His _wife_. This wasn't Celaena's teenage romance, he had been married to a woman who was now gone. The specifics were lost to her, but she finally thought she could start to understand Rowan Whitethorn.

The man who helped drag her into sobriety. Who, despite hating her with all his heart, respected her wishes and kept her safe when she was drunk. She had seen him in practice clothes, beating the shit out of her in sparring matches, but also in a god damn flowered apron making meatloaf at three in the morning. She had seen him blow off Maeve's orders because he had a flower shipment to get to. And she knew he watered those plants religiously.

He met her eyes, and found no pity in them. “What?”

“Nothing.” said Celaena, leaning back. “I just didn't know you were married.”

“I was.” he shrugged.

“You must've been awful young.”

“I was nineteen, and I was old enough. I was sure.”

“You sure now?” as soon as the question slipped out, Celaena regretted it. Rowan looked up at her sharply, a brief flash of hurt passing through his eyes.

“I would do it again.” he said simply. “If I went back, knowing what I know now, I'd still do it.”

“Yeah,” said Celaena, thinking about Sam. “I know. I just-”

She huffed out an uncomfortable laugh. “I'm nineteen. Could you imagine me, married?”

Rowan snorted. “God, no.”

“Right?” she was smiling now. He looked like he was getting there.”

“Come on, princess.” said Rowan, really looking at her, _deep_ at her, into her core. “You got your life, okay? Take your time.”

“Our situations are not that different.” she pointed out. “We're still in a war zone. But I don't think I could ever love someone enough to be that afraid of losing them again. That's why you had the shotgun wedding, yeah?”

He looked at the ceiling. “Yeah. That's why. Listen, you need to stop pretending you're some emotionless husk of a girl. You're nineteen, you haven't run out of love yet.”

“What use, Rowan?” asked Celanea. “What use could someone like me have for love? No. I need trust, I much prefer it to love. I've had enough of the stuff for a lifetime.”

“That can't be true.” he said, simple.

“It is.” she said firmly. “That's me. It's the way it is. You, on the other hand...are you gonna finish the story?”

“Story?”

“What happened to her?” asked Celaena.

Rowan went unusually still.

“That bad?”

“You have...” he was struggling to get words out, his voice harsh, raspy. “You have no idea.”

She took a closer look. He was shaking, actually shaking. With what, fear? Was the memory so powerful? His back was to her now, but it wasn't like Celaena could normally read his expressions anyway. But his shoulders were tensed, the muscles in his neck bunched up.

'Oh, god.” said Celaena. He wasn't scared, he wasn't overwhelmed, he was _angry_. “Jesus, Rowan, what happened?”

“You do not want to get into this with me, Aelin.”

She had given up correcting him on her name ages ago. Celaena stood up. 'You're right. Upstairs. I'll make tea.”

Rowan turned to look at her, his eyes burning. “Aelin-”

“Shut up.” she said. “Go upstairs. We need to talk about this.”

He looked—okay, he looked downright terrifying. Face set and hard, every sharp corner and angle of his features made harsh in the bright light. Celaena held a hand out to him, exaggerating her breathing so he could see her chest rise and fall. Slowly, his breathing began to match hers, as some of the pure hate filtered out of his eyes.

“You shouldn't know this.” said Rowan in a low voice. “Really. Don't ask me.”

“After this?” asked Celaena lightly. “How could I not?”

He took her hand, and she pulled him upstairs, to Rowan's actual apartment space. It somehow smelled more like flowers here than it did downstairs. Celaena deposited him on the worn brown couch and dragged a wooden chair over, sitting across from him.

'Tell me everything.”

“There's nothing to tell.”

“Then why did it get all _Kill Bill_ in there a bit ago, huh?” asked Celaena, tucking her legs underneath her. “I could practically hear the sirens.” and then, softer: “What happened to your wife, Rowan?”

Rowan covered his mouth with a large scarred hand, sighing. The hand traveled upward to massage his temples. “I can't—this isn't just a story to me.'

“I understand that.” said Celaena. Of course she did. When it came to a loved one's wrongful death, no one could understand more. He held his hand out for her, a surprising but welcome call of assistance. She crossed over to sit next to him and gave him her wrist to hold. Rowan, a hand still over his face, sought out her pulse with the other hand's expert fingers. Each steady thump relaxed him more.

The pulse thing was an old trick Sam had taught her, back in the Assassins. Whenever she had been in a high adrenaline situation for long periods of time, coming down from that state without crashing was hard and hell. Sam would let her listen to his heartbeat, matching hers to his, until her breathing was even and her mind was calm.

So that's what she'd do for Rowan. She'd keep him calm.

“Lyria wasn't just a florist.” said Rowan, starting suddenly. Celaena nodded. “I don't know how she got in with Maeve, but she was young. Thirteen, maybe fourteen. It's the same story as everyone else, she was an orphan who couldn't afford school anymore. Textbook stuff. I think she started small, for some cash. She was a runner for the drug business. Sometimes she did recon. And somehow, Maeve took a liking to her, promoted her to bigger jobs.”

“Did you know her, back then?” asked Celaena quietly.

Rowan shook his head. “We worked in different branches of the cartel. I met her through Gav. But while I was having trouble moving up in rank, she had no such problem. You remember my cadre?”

Lorcan, Gavriel, Vaunugh, and the twins. “Yeah.”

“She was one of them.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I technically replaced her, after. She didn't do what I do, what Lorcan does. Lyria was never just muscle.”

“Then what did Maeve want her for?” Celaena's pulse was beating a little faster now, and she silently willed her heart to calm down.

“I don't know. We met and got married when she was still in the cadre, but I never pushed. Never asked. She never wanted to talk about work like, seemed content to pretend we were a florist family. Whenever she did talk about the Fae life, it was always general. Never about her own work.”

“That's...I could never do that.”

“I fell in love with her duality. But now, I wish I—it doesn't matter.” said Rowan, shaking his head. Slow anger seemed to be creeping up on him again. “Maeve never approved of our relationship. I never knew why, she liked Lyria, but I think she thought of her as just a tool. Like a knife. Maeve thought I deserved better, thought I should marry into one of the Fae crime families. I didn't care. Married the girl anyway, no matter how small the ceremony was. Maeve pretended to be okay with it, but she wasn't. She wasn't.”

Clarity. Celaena started to draw a conclusion. “Rowan, no.”

“Lyria was with child.” said Rowan, his grip on her wrist tightening. “She was pregnant, and asked for maternity leave out of the gang scene. Maeve granted it to her, but asked she do one last mission. One last run for her. She was only a few weeks along, so she agreed. It was low risk. A tiny mission.”

Celaena covered his hand with her own, horror struck.

“Maeve had her gunned down by one of Lyria's own. She was shot by a cadre member, to make things worse. Point blank, bullet to the head. Execution style.” Rowan looked away. “And by a member of her own team. Lyria...everyone loved Lyria. The cadre would've died for her, in theory. But it turns out, when push came to shove, Maeve had more pull with them.”

“It was Lorcan.” said Celaena. Who else? “That's why you hate him.”

“I don't hate Lorcan.” said Rowan. “His hand was forced. But yes. It was him.”

“Wait,” said Celaena, shaking her head. “Why did Maeve—do you have a reason? She can't just have not liked her, there must have been something else-”

“I never got answers.” said Rowan. He pulled away from Celaena. “I'm going to make that tea.”

“Wait, Rowan...” she trailed off. He had already gotten up, crossing the room to the small kitchenette. Celaena bit her lip. That was _way_ worse than she had been expecting. Worse still was the matter of fact way he told it to her, as though he had gone over it again and again in his head. As though there was nothing to do but accept it.

“Why are you still working for her?” demanded Celaena, following him to the stove. He filled the kettle. “She killed your—damn, Rowan, how could you still work for her?”

“I have no choice.” he said simply, not looking up. “This is the only way.”

“Are you just biding your time, or something? Got a heroic way out, blaze of glory planned?”

“No.”

“I'll help you.” she said suddenly, surprising herself. “I'll do it. We'll do it, together. Take the bitch down.”

“No, Aelin.”

“It's Celaena.” she snapped. “And why? After all this, how could you not want blood?”

Rowan looked at her coolly, apparently done. “The same way you worked for Adarlan after knowing what he did to your parents. _Aelin_.”

She flinched back. To be fair, a brief flash of guilt passed over Rowan's gaze as he turned back to the kettle.

“Rowan,” said Celaena quietly. No. _No_. She had to bank on him, had to trust him, because the alternative would be being alone, again. “We can do this.”

He turned back to her, cupping her face between his hands and leaning forward to rest his forehead against her. Celaena closed her eyes, hating how good and safe this little human content made her feel. “I mean it.” she said.

“I know.” said Rowan, forehead still pressed to hers. “Thank you. But I have no exit route. And she wouldn't have wanted me to avenge her if it meant my death. Certainly not your death.”

Celaena's eyes were inexplicably filled with tears. “They're gonna-” she paused, not wanting her voice to crack. There was a heavy lump in her throat. “They're gonna get what's coming to them. Maeve and A-Arobynn. They're gonna feel what they did to us, they're gonna-”

“I know.” said Rowan again, briefly pressing his lips to her forehead before wrapping her in his arms. Celaena's tears spilled over as she clung to him. “Okay, I know. But not now.”

“But together?” it was a question, posed when her face was buried in his shirt.

His grip on her tightened a very small amount. “Together.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had Lyria's backstory stuck in my head for like. a year. This is a small version of my larger Lyria headcanon, but elements of this will probably show up in PLTLWM.
> 
> reviews are the knowledge that black orchids are actually rlly dark blue orchids


	8. We Come Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aelin takes her friends to the beach for one last day of fun. #squad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in one night wtha the fuckkk
> 
> i hope u enjoy squad being happy

**We Come Running**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Positive," said Aelin, making herself a sandwich. She was struggling to put mayonnaise evenly on the bread."This is exactly what we need." 

Rowan sighed, leaning again the kitchen counter in Aelin's flat. Enough sandwich material to feed an army was splayed out on it. Five incredibly sloppy sandwiches were wrapped in cellophane and placed onto a platter to his left. "It's a little risky-"

"Rowan." said Aelin, putting down the mayonnaise and looking at him. "Yeah, I know, it's dangerous out there. But one squad beach day isn't going to make it worse."

"Can we at least  _not_ invite Chaol?" said Rowan, rolling his eyes.

"You're cute." said Aelin. "No. He's coming."

"Aelin-" Rowan took the bread and the mayonnaise from her and began quickly and efficiently layering it on. "Does anyone even like mayo?"

"I like mayo." said Aelin innocently, reaching up to press a light kiss to his lips.

"Well, then." said Rowan dryly.

"Ro, it's the  _summer_. It's  _hot_. I just graduated law school, Aedion's in the police academy...Elide's out of physical therapy. Everything is so good for all of us right now, let's just do something summer-y. Something normal."

"Okay." said Rowan, deflating. She looked so  _earnest_ , and she was right, it wasn't her fault the last couple of years had been more than hectic. If he could give her one normal day, that'd be enough.

Aelin smiled at him and patted his cheek. He wrinkled his nose at the feeling, and then realized it was because she still had mayonnaise on her hands. 

"Aelin,  _gross-_ "

"Hush, it looks fetching." said Aelin, leaning closer to smear more onto his cheeks. Rowan attempted to squirm away while still keeping hold of the deconstructed sandwich in his hands.

"This is disgusting."

"Hm, we have some mustard in the fridge-"

"-and I  _really_ don't want to know." declared a new voice. Aelin and Rowan turned, the latter still frowning at the white all over his face, to see Aedion stalk in, Lysandra on his heels. 

"Well, I do." declared Lysandra, dropping a tote bag onto a chair. She reached into her purse and handed Rowan a moist towelette. 

"Thanks." he said gruffly.

"Do you carry that around with you?" Aelin wanted to know.

"Well, it sure was a mistake to put you on food duty." said Aedion, looking at the explosion of meats, lettuce and bread. Aelin stuck her tongue out at him.

" _Rude_." her phone pinged, and half a second later so did the other three's. 

"If Manon's blowing up the groupchat  _again_ -" said Rowan, going for his phone.

"Nope," said Aelin, who's idea it had been to include Manon into their groupchat in the first place. "It's Dorian. He wants to know if we have a cooler." 

"We don't." said Aedion.

"Great, Dorian's bringing a cooler."

" _Dorian's_ coming?"

"When I say squad, Ro, I mean  _squad_."

"By 'Dorian's bringing a cooler' you mean he's supplying us with alcohol, right?" asked Lysandra.

"Of course."

"I still don't understand why this is necessary." said Aedion, hopping up to sit on the counter. "Can't we just watch a movie like we did last week?"

"First of all," said Lysandra dryly. "When A originally proposed a beach day  _you_ were the most excited. Very golden retriever of you."

"That's so rude." said Aedion. "I just don't understand why we have to drive to  _Jersey_." 

"There's nothing wrong with New Jersey, and I'm not lugging all this on a train." answered Aelin. "And the beaches there are better, if we're getting out of the city we may as well do it right."

"Thank you, Fearless Leader." said Lysandra. "Where are we meeting the boys?"

"Chaol and Dorian are gonna meet us there. I  _said_ there was no reason to split up so much, three cars is overkill, but they insisted."

"They're taking Nesryn, yeah?"

"Yeah." said Aelin, checking her phone again. "And Manon and Elide are taking Manon's car. She wouldn't, and I quote 'enter any vehicle that didn't pass state inspection with flying colors', and well Aedion let's be real-"

"My car is fine!"

"Your car is a dumpster on wheels." said Lysandra, frowning. "Wait. I may not want to enter a vehicle that didn't pass state inspection with flying colors."

"Too bad, you're stuck with me, Lys." said Aedion, looping an arm around her waist. She laughed prettily and drove her fist into his gut.

Rowan turned to Aelin over the sound of her cousin's choking. "Hey," he said quietly. 

Aelin looked up at him, caught by his sudden serious tone. "Hey." she said.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, stepping closer.

She gave him a small smile, and pushed her hair out of her face. Aelin lightly touched his arms, conveying everything she needed through that small point of contact. "Yeah." she said anyway. "I'm sure. Maeve sends men to shoot at us on a beach in  _Jersey_ -it all sounds a little unlikely, and anyway. We need this.

"We need this." agreed Rowan. 

Aelin nodded and beamed up at him, before letting him go and turning back to the rest of the kitchen. 'Alright! Let's make some sandwiches!"

 

 

Dorian's car arrived first. Aelin could tell cause no one else in the entire world drove an ice blue Prius.

"Jesus, is that Havilliard's shitty car?" asked Aedion as they pulled into beach parking next to the Prius.

"Aedion." said Lysandra, genuine frustration creeping into her voice after over an hour of sitting in Aedion's car. "This van smells perpetually of tacos. Do not talk."

"When I get rich I'm buying him a new car." sighed Aelin from the passenger seat. "A Prius, honestly."

"You once told me your dream car was a Honda Civic." said Rowan dryly. Lysandra, in the backseat next to him, silently held out her hand. He high fived it. 

"That was in confidence, Rowan!"

"Oi, there's Nesryn." said Aedion, craning to see the small woman on the boardwalk.

"-and that was my dream  _realistic_ car! Of course I want a Mustang, but-"

"Okay, let's go." said Lysandra, pushing open the door. "The scent of old queso is getting to me."

They exited the car, Lysandra tripping a little over her massive platform sandals. Aelin handed Rowan the large basket of food and scooped up his beach bag as well as hers. Lysandra, on the other hand, handed Aedion both her bag and his, before stalking forward unburdened. 

"It's really hot." said Aedion lamely as they approached the boardwalk where Nesryn, Chaol, and Dorian were now visible. They had already shucked off their clothes to reveal swimsuits underneath-Nesryn was in a black halter that displayed her abs so well Aelin reconsidered the whole 'committed relationship' thing and resolved to take an artsy Instagram photo of her later. Chaol and Dorian, predictably, wore the same pair of swim shorts in different colors.

Dorian bound forward to great them, sweeping Aelin into a hug. "Hey, princess." he said, laughing, as he squeezed her. Aelin hugged back, hard. She hadn't seen Dorian this happy in a while.

"Good to see you, nerd."

Releasing her, Dorian gave a cry of delight before swooping Lysandra up in another tight hug. Aelin turned to Chaol, smiling softly. "Hey."

"Hey." he said back, grinning. 

She felt only a second of hesitation before reaching up onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms gently encircled her waist, and she smiled into his shoulder. Aelin was  _so_ glad they were okay again.

"Okay," said Aelin, pushing away. "Excuse me, I need to hug my girlfriend."

"Aw," drawled Nesryn from behind them. 

Chaol glanced at her. "Oh, no, Faliq, she was talking about Whitethorn." he deadpanned.

"I'm going to shove your face into the sand." declared Rowan. 

Aelin giggled before kissing Nesryn on the cheek and hooked an arm around her. "Come on, I'm wearing something  _super cute_ underneath this, I can't wait for you to see it..."

Nesryn laughed, delighted. "Yeah?"

"By the way, have you been working out? Your abs look so good, like damn-"

Rowan lifted Aelin by the waist and gently deposited her a safe five feet from Nesryn, who was howling with laughter. Aelin gasped with mock offense.

"Our love is real, Rowan."

"You bet it is." he answered, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, let's change."

She turned to see Aedion giving Dorian a very thorough noogie while Lysandra watched. "Yes, perhaps that's for the best."

 

 

She was wearing a gold bathing suit.

Rowan was doing fine, minding his own business. His 'changing' involved removing a shirt, so he decided to wait on that front and was relaxing on the board walk, drinking root beer (Dorian brought the brinks and there was zero chance of finding anything nonalcoholic in the cooler. The root beer was so spiked.), waiting for Lys and Aelin to finish changing. He was, for lack of a better word,  _chilling_. 

He sees Lysandra first, looking lovely in green and gold vintage. She winks at him, and Rowan smiles back. He's not one for public approval of other people, but he  _likes_ Lysandra. She's cool. Later, Rowan realizes she was winking at him in evil preparation for what she's done to his girlfriend.

Aelin's mid sentence when he sees her, her arms over her head as she sweeps a towel back and slings it over her shoulders. The heavy sunlight's hitting her hair and all the planes of her face as she laughs, glinting off her  _metallic gold_ high waisted bikini. Rowan, displaying a crazy amount of self control, refuses to look past her face. Seriously. Her cousin was  _right there_.

She catches his eye and  _smirks_ , and there we go, Rowan's self control flies out the window, cause she knows exactly what she's goddamn doing-

"Hey." said Aelin, grinning at him as she reached the group. 

Rowan opened his mouth and found that words were a little difficult right now.

"Are y'all ready?" asked Dorian. He looked so excited. 

"Just about." said Lysandra, neatly twisting her hair into a bun. 

Aelin broke eye contact with Aedion and frowned. "Hey, where's-"

A silver Cadillac came screaming into the parking lot, fishtailing into an acceptable parking job at 90 miles an hour. Aelin's mouth flattened into a hard line,

"Never mind." she said flatly.

The driver door banged open and the group were all treated to a spectacular view of Manon Blackbeak's bare leg as she pulled herself out of her car. She was already wearing a red bikini, huge Prada sunglasses covering her face as she stalked over to the passenger seat to open the door for longtime girlfriend Elide Lochan. 

"Did she drive all the way from the city in a bikini?" asked Chaol, dumbstruck.

"She's wearing stilettos." said Nesryn. Lysandra only let out a low whistle. 

Elide was in a sage coverup, her leg brace waterproofed and ready to go. She smiled up at Manon as she helped her out of the car, and spotted the group o the board walk immediately. As Elide waved at them, Aelin sighed.

"That girl is  _far_ too sweet for Manon."

Manon pressed a light kiss to Elide's forehead, and Aelin's scowl deepened.

"Okay, maybe not, but I still think Manon should be either universally bitchy or universally nice."

Lysandra threw an arm around her shoulder. "Oh, hon." 

"We can't  _all_ be universally bitchy." said Manon a few paces away, walking up while holding Elide's hand. "You've got that corner covered, Aelin."

Aelin smiled. "Hi, Elide!" she said brightly.

Elide smiled back and gave her a hug. "Hey, cousin A."

"Good, we're all here." said Dorian. "Blackbeak. Elide."

"Havilliard." said Manon.

"Oh, Dorian, hey-" Elide was interrupted as Aedion picked her up in a large bear hug. 

"Cousin Elide! How are you?" he boomed.

"Fine, I'm fine." laughed the girl. "I'm rather eager to get into the water myself-"

"There we have it, Elide agrees with me." said Dorian brightly, picking up his cooler. "Let's go."

 

 

They set up with two blankets, and an umbrella that Nesryn brought and spread out the food and the drinks. There's barely enough space there for the nine of them, but they make do. It's comfortable, with a group large enough that certain topics aren't brought up unless necessary, and at least three conversations are happening at one time.

When they finally decide to hit the water, only a couple go first. Dorian, Chaol, Nesryn and Aedion hit the waves yelling, and Nesryn seems ready to bring out the surfboard she had stuffed in the back of the Prius. Elide, Rowan and Lysandra are having a sandcastle making competition and it's the literal cutest thing Aelin had ever seen. Still, it left Manon and Aelin alone by the umbrella, both slathering on sunscreen.

"Well," said Aelin as Manon handed her a jumbo bottle of high quality sunscreen. "Just cause we're the only ones who can burn..."

"Skin cancer is a real threat." answered Manon primly. She sat watching the waves, arms around her knees. "I'll join them later."

"Me too." said Aelin. She glanced at Manon, who's silver hair was pulled up into a high bun. Strands of silver framed her face. "You good?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" said Manon, eyes fixed ahead. "Still gunning for Fae, right?"

Aelin rolled her shoulders. "Yeah."

"You didn't ask for my help."

"No, I didn't."

Manon said nothing, her silence stony. Aelin sighed. "Listen, with Adarlan it was different. You had your reasons to go against him just as much as I did, and he had Elide and Dorian...this is different. It's my fight."

"It's your boyfriend's fight."

"Mine too." said Aelin sharply.

Another pause. "Aelin." started Manon. "I'm with Elide. Like,  _with_ her."

"I know."

Manon turned to look at her. "Her battle's are mine to fight. And as long as she considers herself your cousin, her safety is threatened. I'm not blaming you for that. When you're like us, it happens, but I'm  _not_ letting Elide become collateral damage. That means that as long as it's  _your_ fight, it's mine."

Aelin let that sentence play out, and it was her turn to fix her eyes on the horizon. "Okay." she said eventually."

"Okay?"

"Okay." Aelin swallowed. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

Aelin turned to the other girl. "Did you  _really_ drive down in that?"

Manon grinned slowly. "No. I changed at a gas station five minutes from the beach."

"You bitch!" laughed Aelin. "I can't believe-and the stilettos?"

"I put them on just before leaving the car. I have flats in the back."

"Holy shit, holy shit-"

"No one will ever believe you."

 

 

Rowan won the sandcastle contest by a landslide considering he had carved out miniature windows and wall art with a bit of a stick he had found. Lys and Elide had started working together in order to beat him, but considering  _his_ fully functional moat, they didn't come close.

This unfortunately spurred on a sudden competitive streak in the group. Aelin and Manon had a very fast paced swimming competition to a rock a quarter of a mile out-it was a tie, but neither woman admit it. Nesryn would have joined, but as the only one among them who knew how to surf, she was having her own fun.

Lysandra swum up to her, very determined, and said, "Let me have a try on that thing," before nearly drowning. 

The boys all grabbed smooth rocks by a dock and took turns skipping them, turning this into a contest as well. Rowan had the lead with five skips, and was looking very smug about it before Nesryn grabbed a rock and smoothly chucked it. It skipped nine times.

Chaol buried Dorian up to his neck in sand. Lysandra took a million pictures of his head sticking out above the sand, grinning like a loon.

"You look like a radish." she informed him.

Dorian wrinkled his nose. "Am I a _cute_ radish?"

She pursed her lips. "Perhaps."

Aelin was sitting on the blanket again, another wrapped around her, eating shaved ice that Dorian brought. "Oi!" she called out. "Does this have vodka in it? I'm getting a jungle juice vibe."

Dorian turned his head as best he could. 'Ask me no questions I'll tell you no lies."

"I can't believe I'm eating alcoholic shaved ice. You are a god among men, Dorian."

"Love you too, princess."

Rowan settled down next to her, positively glistening. Aelin eyed him appreciatively, eating her ice. "You look nice shirtless." she commented.

"You too." said Rowan.

"I'm wearing a top, Ro."

"We can fix that."

That startled a laugh out of her, and Aelin reached back into the cooler to hand Rowan a thing of shaved ice. "Eat."

"Is it too sweet?"

"No, it's fine, your delicate sensibilities should handle it." 

"My  _delicate_ -" Rowan scooted closer to her, planting a hand behind her and shifting his upper body so she could settle comfortably against his back. "That was a very rude thing you just did, by the way."

"What, commenting on your lack of taste?"

" _No_." he snapped a thin strap of her bikini. "With  _this_."

Aelin turned, beaming up at him. "Lys and I bought it last week."

"Yeah, I bet. Lys, despite being a bro, is always out to kill me."

She was laughing again. "Did you just call Lysandra a  _bro_?"

He shrugged. "She is."

"Yeah," grinned Aelin. "Yeah, I guess she is. She'll be delighted."

Rowan wrapped an arm around her waist, but pulled back immediately after feeling the heat on her skin. "Aelin."

"What?"

"Did you put on sunscreen?"

The look on her face was guilty, and Rowan pushed back from her. "Aelin!"

"I got distracted!" she said. "Manon was being extra!" 

"Have you forgotten how easily you burn, Galathynius?" Rowan siezed Manon's bottle of sunscreen and shook half the contents of it into his hand. "Turn around."

Aelin opened her mouth, but he cut across. " _Yes,_ that was a thinly veiled sex thing, now actually turn around so I can keep your back from matching your favorite lipstick."

She complied, grinning. "I'm so offended."

"Shut up." said Rowan, slathering on sunscreen. "This is so irresponsible. You're a  _lawyer_. You're a lawyer who was an ex-gang member. And you forget sunscreen."

"Like I said, Manon was being super extra." she paused. "I mean, I was being extra too, but she was being  _super_ -"

"I get it."

He started tracking down her shoulders, her arms.

"I can reach there myself."

"I'm very diligent." he replied. 

Aelin grinned again, leaning back against his chest.

"What-Aelin, Aelin, no, I can't reach your-"

"Quit it with the sunscreen and kiss me already."

Rowan held up his hands, covered in sunscreen. "I can't."

"You're unbelievable." 

"So you've said." said Rowan before complying-he let her drag his face down to meet her's, and placed a hand on the small of her back to bring her closer.

Kissing Aelin like this, on a beach as a breeze played with their hair, was like sunlight. Warm and fulfilling and he wanted to swim in it.

However, he also wanted the best for her. So, Rowan reached up to cup her cheek, subtly transferring sunscreen onto her face. Aelin pulled back, laughing.

"You're an  _asshole_."

 

 

As the sun was going down, Aelin took that aesthetic picture of Nesryn flexing against the bright sun. 

"Beautiful." she said. "Amazing. Super hot."

"Yeah, I bet." said Nesryn, half hugging her. "Listen, quick question."

"Hit me."

"You're cool, right?" asked Nesryn, face suddenly serious. "With me and Chaol?"

Aelin raised an eyebrow. "Well,  _yes_ , objectively, but can we back up? There's a 'you and Chaol'?"

"Yeah." admitted the other girl. "We had that friends with benefits thing going on forever, but he um, he asked me out. Proper. Yesterday. And I said yes, but Aelin-"

"Hey," said Aelin, grabbing her by the arms. "Hey. Firstly, I am very deeply in love with a great guy, and that's exactly what you deserve too. Chaol's a great guy, and we have too much history for me  _not_ to love him. But, well, you can say we have  _to_ _o_ much history. Of course I'm okay. I kinda...I kinda screwed him up a bit, way back when. I want him happy."

Nesryn smiled, the white of her teeth blinding against her dark skin. "Yeah?"

"Chill out, Faliq, we're good."

 

 

"Photos." said Lysandra, clapping her hands. The sun stubbornly hung in the sky, and Lys was stalking around threateningly with a Polaroid. "Come on, girls first, and then guys, and then a group."

The girl obediently (Manon sneered the whole way) grouped up. Lysandra handed the camera to Rowan.  Nesryn, Manon, Elide, Aelin and Lys all smiled for the camera. Aelin pretended to blow a kiss, and Manon, on purpose or not, kissed Elide as the picture was being took. The girls all groaned.

"Ugh, seriously-"

"Get a room."

"We need a cute photo, not a photo in which you two are being cuter than every one else."

Manon grinned, an arm around Elide. "Can't help it."

"Shut up," grinned Aelin. "Okay take two!"

The next one was satisfactory to Rowan, so Lysandra reclaimed the camera and sent Chaol, Dorian, Aedion and Rowan off to pose. Of course none of them did until Dorian, breaking the ice, dropped to one knee and began flexing. This resulted in an excellent picture where the rest of the boys stared at a happily flexing Dorian like they had never seen him before. Lysandra laughed herself hoarse before motioning them to just smile. 

"How are we going to take a group one?" asked Aelin. "I didn't bring a tripod."

"Hold up." said Lys. She ran up the beach a bit and asked an older woman to take the photo for them.

"Okay guys," said Aelin. "It's someone we don't know, so we only get one shot here."

 They grouped up, arms thrown around shoulders, hands wrapped around waists. Aelin was smiling so hard it hurt. The camera flashed.

"Thanks," she said the the lady, taking back the camera and handing it to Lysandra. "Hope it came out good."

"Me too." said the dark haired girl. She turned back to the sunset, pensive."

"What is it, Lys?"

"Nothing." she said. "It's just...damn. That's beautiful."

 

 

Somehow, after they packed up, they all ended up on the sand watching the sun go down. 

"Jersey's not bad." said Aedion. Aelin grinned at him.

"No, it's not." she said.

Rowan was next to her, and he took her hand. She looked at him and smiled, bringing their clasped hands to her lips. "Hey."

"Hey." he said. Aelin leaned against him again and settled back to watch the sunset in his arms.

Her heart was in her throat. They were sitting higher up than the rest, so she could see them, watch them, her  _friends_. Her family, who had been through hell and back for her. She saw the way the red light from the sun struck each of their faces as they all quietly watched the sky. Saw the way the breeze picked up their hair, the curve of their lips and bodies right now. Aelin saw it all and wrapped it up deep inside her heart, memorizing the moment. She wanted to be able to remember what this felt like until the day she died.

The sun set.

Shadow settled over the beach, but the afterglow was still burned into her eyes. After a moment, each of her friends turned back to look at her. Aelin swallowed hard. 

"Well." she said. "It's over."

The rest of their lives loomed in front of her. They had today to be happy and have fun, and she was thankful. Before they could be happy again, before they could be free, there were things to be done. Rulers to dethrone. Crime to stop.

Aelin Galathynius looked at her allies, and she did not smile. "Let's get to work." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got rlly emotional about this like wow anyway i got to sleep
> 
> reviews are the squad being happy!!


	9. The Wolf and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysandra asks Aedion a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmaooo i kno it was weird that i just dropped that coffee shop au on y'all after like four months of silence but im back at school and back at semi-regular updates  
> This is a scene from my lysaedion fic, after aedion and aelin's coffee, right after he realizes he has feelings for lys. can be read as a stand alone.
> 
> have some lysaedion!! talk to me about eos!! good to see y'all!!
> 
> chapter soundtrack: 'the wolf and i' by oh land

 

" **The Wolf and I"**

“Have you ever been in love?”

Aedion looked up, eyebrows raised. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against his bed. Lysandra lay flat on her stomach over the covers, reading a magazine. The question had just slipped out, but she refused to be embarrassed about it.

“What?” he asked, slightly dry.

Lys lowered the magazine, pursing her lips. “You heard me.”

Aedion snorted. “I mean...I don’t know, Lys.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?”

“Do  _ you _ know?” he asked pointedly. 

She looked away, laughing. “I’m different.”

“How, exactly, are you different?” Aedion asked. He turned around fully, looking up at her through white blond eyelashes. She didn’t meet his eyes there, because looking at Aedion full on was too similar to looking directly at Aelin.  
And Aelin missed nothing.

The differences were there, were palpable, of course. The square jaw, the perpetual stubble-Lysandra was willing to be she had never seen Aedion clean shaven once in their time together. His eyes weren’t as large as his cousin’s, but his eyelashes were longer. His nose didn’t turn up at the end like her’s did, and his cheekbones were broader and sharper than her’s would ever be. 

It was mostly the same even, clear gaze that did it. 

So Lysandra looked down, let her lashes skim her cheeks as she smiled. “Aedion, come on.”

“How are you different?” he asked again, a hint of steel in his voice. 

“You didn’t even answer the question.”

“Lys-”

“It was  _ just _ a question.”

“ _ Lysandra _ .” said Aedion firmly. He stood, and she was so surprised by the movement that she pulled back, curling up and tucking her bare feet up under her. He sat on the side of the bed, sliding closer until she could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was all broad shoulders and stupid boy collarbones, and Lysandra pulled further in just to get away from what she  _ knew _ was gonna be an incredibly comfortable shirt.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft and low. “Have you?”

“Have I what?” she asked, voice hollow.

“Been in love.”

“Well, I’m currently deeply in love with your cousin.” said Lysandra, fighting the hole that mawed open in her heart. Some lies, some truth. That was how she lived.

“Because I haven’t.” said Aedion. “I mean, I carried a  _ torch _ for a couple people, and I...I’ve been out. But no, I haven’t.”

“Okay.” she said quietly.

“Have you?”

Lys knew he didn’t mean to pry, and yet. Here he was. And yeah, every time she smiled and every time she laughed she  _ felt _ Wesley beneath her skin, all the grief and madness and unfairness of it all pulling at her bones and settling behind her eyes. She was nowhere near healed. 

It would take one word.

One word, and Aedion would back off. He was  _ so _ good at that. Pushing and pulling, gaining ground and then retreating before she exploded.  So Lysandra opened her mouth, prepared a lie, and began to deliver it with so much conviction Clarisse herself couldn’t have found her out.

What came out instead was, “His name was Wesley.”

Lysandra raised a hand to her lips in shock, freezing. What?  _ What? _ That was  _ not _ supposed to happen.

To Aedion’s credit, he looked nearly as surprised as she was, but readjusted quickly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” she said slowly. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” he said, before pausing in such an obvious show of self control she nearly laughed.

That grief was inside her again, pushing up at her throat and mouth in a desperate bid to get out. Control, she told herself. Regulation. “He died.” said Lysandra, forcing herself to say the facts, noncommittal, just words.

“Murder?”

“Yeah.”

Aedion paused. “Who did it?”

Something between a laugh and a sob choked out of her, and Aedion turned to quickly towards her he cracked his neck.

She was fine, though. She wasn’t crying, just...slightly constricted, slightly shocked. Lysandra fought her expression to stay neutral, but she knew how bitter she must look. “Who do you think?” she muttered, drier than dry.

Aedion frowned. Lysandra pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them and trying to look as small as possible. “Arobynn.” she said curtly, wanting to get it over with.

Arobynn  _ fucking _ Hamel.

She was normally pretty good at keeping the rage under wraps. Aelin was the only one who knew and could recognize that every time Lysandra’s smile petered out, every time the light in her eyes emptied, she was thinking of each and every way her talented hands could crush the life out of Arobynn Hamel.

“That’s why.” said Aedion quietly, and she knew he was thinking of the fierce way Aelin looked after her. That was why they had come together like this.

“That’s why.” Lysandra echoed. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. He was bound to find out anyway. 

So the whole story came out. The way that between cab rides and escorts up to Arobynn’s room, Lysandra and Wesley had fallen in love. How small smiles and his light touch on the small of her back had meant so much,  _ so much _ , to her, until she woke up for him, got out of bed for him, until the only thing she thought of when someone was on top of her was his eyes and his smile and the surprise in his laugh when she made a joke.

Aedion listened soundly, only raising his eyebrows when Lysandra told him what Wesley had done for Aelin and why he died.

“Then his blood is on-”

“No.” said Lys sharply, anger sparking up. “It wasn’t A’s fault. She didn’t know. His blood stains Arobynn’s hands and that’s  _ all _ .”

She looked away then, tears pricking up behind her eyes. She blinked them away, but she hadn’t told the story in so long, that it took a toll on her. Aedion slid a little closer to her, tentatively reaching out. When she didn’t pull away, he slung an arm around her shoulders and brought her into the predictably soft cotton of his shirt.

Lys made a small noise before shoving her nose into the crook of his neck and shoulder. She felt his breathing relax. 

“I guess.” he said, voice low. “I guess I haven’t done that. Felt some much for a person that I could do what you did, Lys.”

“What I did?” she asked quietly, curling up further into him.

“I would’ve gotten mad. Would’ve tried killing Arobynn right then and there. But you...I couldn’t have bided my time like that, to actually destroy him like-”

“-like he destroyed me.” completed Lysandra tonelessly. He was right-it would’ve been way easier to go up against Arobynn in a flame of self destruction. But it would’ve ended with her dead and Arobynn simply contracting another poor girl to grace his arm.

The night after Wesley died, she had considered it. She had left Arobynn’s bed to sit out by the balcony, and she knew where every weapon in that room was. There had been a shawl wrapped around her, her makeup had been washed off, and she had simply sat, looking at the moon. The numb wore off, and the luminous circle high in the sky seemed to fill her with cold, sharp rage, anger that froze before it killed. There hadn’t been a single moment hence that she didn’t feel that ice in her veins. It gave her purpose.

Turns out, however, that melting into a comfortable shirt was also kinda nice. 

Aedion sighed, pressing a light, friendly kiss to the top of her head. “He didn’t.”

“Hm?”

“Destroy you.” 

Lysandra considered it. “Yes. I suppose he remade me, then.”

“He didn’t do that either.” said Aedion, speaking directly into her hair. “You did that yourself.”

“You weren’t exactly there.” she pointed out.

“I know you, Lys. And Aelin told me herself. ‘No one can break Lysandra’, she said. The last time we got coffee. She said you were like diamonds.”

Lys smiled. “She did?”

“The closest thing to diamonds this city’s got.”

“I’ve always liked Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Lysandra sighed, considering. “And you’re wrong.”

“Hm?”

“About yourself. You did the exact same thing I did, remember?”

“What? When?”

She sat up, so she could look into his eyes. “When you thought A was dead, and you knew the best way to fight back against the Havilliards was to become one of them.”

Aedion tensed slightly at the memory of Adarlan’s gang. “That wasn’t...”

“You lied, and you stole, for the memory of your people.” Lysandra continued. “You painted on this deception, Wolf of the North, and you danced. That’s exactly what I did. Only when you played traitor, I played whore.”

Aedion was silent for a long time. “I played whore too.”

Lysandra’s green eyes were steel as she considered him, studied his own mask. “Well.” she said softly. “Aren’t we a pair?”

“Peas in a pod.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they did insinuate aedion had to do some nonconventional stuff for adarlan in eos, right?? Anyway, love u guys, pltlwm is happening next!! I'm sorry!!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [cosmicrhetoric](http://cosmicrhetoric.tumblr.com) on tumblr, say hi!


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